


Sharon Fucking Needles

by purecamp



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, and some fuckin heartbreak, dont judge too harshly this was my first rpf, fairytale motherfuckin ending bitchew, shit happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 23:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12119517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purecamp/pseuds/purecamp
Summary: sharon sends yet another drunk text to alaska. she's told, in essence, to get her shit together. so that's exactly what she does





	Sharon Fucking Needles

**Author's Note:**

> A/N - this is the first shalaska thing ive ever written, even though i love them so much, so i hope you enjoy!! tw for addiction/drugs
> 
> ^^ this is the artificialqueens a/n that i wrote at the time. this was written and posted oct 12th 2016

haron is drunk again, but that’s no surprise. She does this all the time, drinking herself stupid despite knowing that it isn’t going to help her at all. She’s drag race royalty but she’s never been further from deserving a crown in her life. Who even was she anymore? Bitter and afraid. Losing herself.

Sharon Needles had once been a character. With her white contacts, black lips and blood dripping from her chin, she could be distinguished between any other queen with ease. She used witchy gestures and cackled in a way that sounded only slightly more evil than Michelle Visage. She commanded a huge stage presence, just demanding you notice the witch amongst every day, glamorous queens. She could read a queen as if she was an open book. Her witty comebacks and dark, twisted humour made her controversial, yet adored.

But now she doesn’t know where the line is. Back then, Sharon Needles faded when the makeup came off. She still had her twisted humour and controversy, still had her creepy laugh and satanic interests, but she was different. Softer, nicer. Less pale white and harsh black and more… human. Pink flesh and blue eyes and cherry lips and bleached hair. She cackled less, and smiled more.

But Sharon is drunk again, and that’s no surprise. What else would the next drag superstar do when in despair? She spends months at a time as Sharon Needles, and Sharon Needles has no filter. She laughs even without mirth and does drugs and drinks at least five cocktails before 9am, that is if she can even haul herself out of bed at such a time with the hangover she inevitably has. Whoever she was before has been replaced by “Sharon Needles” – a name that demands inverted commas and whose identity has become meshed with her real life.

She wonders if she should have written her successor a guide to this life. Some call it a dream come true, but remember that some dreams are nightmares. You’ll lose everyone close to you, and after a while you won’t even care. Alcohol is almost a necessity. You will come across drugs, and you’ll want them. Addiction is unavoidable. Work your ass off, but not too much, because then you’ll want to find vices to cope with. See the preceding statement.

Then she laughs – a trademark, grating Sharon Needles laugh – and swallows the rest of the beer in her hand. She doesn’t need to write a guide to this life, because the other queens aren’t like her. They’re poised and pretty, and they’ll handle the crown with grace. People will remember them.

Of course, Sharon Needles will be remembered – the dark horse, the demon underbelly of drag. The one that every weird gay kid had hopes for, and the rest of the world. The one who was so strong, she could listen to Phi Phi rag on her day after day and still win Drag Race. The one who was so weak, she succumbed to a life she’d tried to forget. Back alleys, littered with beer bottles full of piss. Vomiting on a hotel carpet and passing out in it, so drunk she didn’t even know her own name. Hobbling home with only one shoe because she traded the other to a seedy looking man for some white powder.

She’s a fucking disgrace. No wonder Alaska was so fragile. She would always wait patiently for Sharon to come home at ungodly hours of the morning, biting back her worries of infidelity and hiding the tears she’d cried over her in favour of a huge smile and a kiss. She would excuse Sharon’s rudeness, the stabbing remarks she made when she was cranky and tired and drunk. She would ignore the fact that Sharon was living Alaska’s dream and not even doing a good job of it. She even – though the thought made Sharon’s heart break now – tried to engage in Sharon’s new life, joining her in cocaine-fuelled lovemaking for the brief times she was home. And Sharon deserved none of it. Not a single fucking bit of her endless love.

Amongst Sharon’s new life, which was city after city after city, bar to bar, venue to venue, Alaska tried her best to keep in touch with her, phoning and texting whenever she knew Sharon was free. Not even complaining when she knew Sharon was free but wasn’t texting back. And she didn’t even appreciate it. When one of her managers told her “two more shows, and then you get to see Alaska”, her reaction was “we have a show in Alaska?”

She didn’t fucking deserve that. Alaska deserved to be the next drag superstar, and the next, and the next. Alaska deserved a drag show of her own, like Ru’s, and the entire world at her fucking high-heeled feet. Alaska deserved someone who could love her as much as her own huge heart loved.

So naturally, the fight happened in a hotel, and everyone knew the story. Both drunk. Both angry. Both hating that they never saw each other and both bitterly wishing the other would leave. Both knowing that they had enough time together to probably do some laundry and that was it for the month. Alaska wanted to keep it all going, as mad as she was. She was always talking about the relationship, how easy it could be to save, how sobriety was just around the corner, really.

But Sharon broke up with her.

“This love is killing us, Alaska.” Sharon had sobbed. “Look at us.”

Her clawed fingers held an old photo, a snap taken years ago of the two in drag together in a bar. So naturally, Alaska, eyes brimming, snatched the photo and in a heat of passion, threw a punch.

So naturally, Sharon, enraged and upset, shoved her.

Punch. Kick. Shove. Scratch.

It ended with a beer bottle smashing on the floor. Sharon swore loudly, cursing about wasting the drink, and Alaska screamed insults. Sharon shot them back. Words cut deeper than stained green glass, and in less than an hour it was all over. And it was all Sharon’s fault, even if the press didn’t know it.

“Friends,” Alaska said. “I will always love Sharon, and we will continue to be a part of each other’s lives. Authenticity and honesty to our fans is so important to us, and we will always be there for all of you, no matter what. I appreciate your love and support in this period of change.”

And Sharon Needles laughed it off. Sharon Needles was professional and agreed that they could be friends. But Sharon without inverted commas knew otherwise. This Sharon cried when she saw the half-empty drag closet, cried when she heard Alaska’s album, cried whilst drunk and cried whilst off her head. And then made jokes on stage the following night.

She was stupid. They could have made it work. All it took to make a relationship work was love and a bit of effort. Sharon had forgotten how to put in the effort.

Sharon is drunk again, but that’s no surprise. Alaska is a long time sober, but that’s no surprise. Alaska is stronger. Hence why Sharon clutches at her phone, eyesight so blurred from alcohol and Satan knows what else that she can hardly type. The message she ends up with is almost unreadable, but Alaska always knew how to decipher drunk Sharon. Drunk Sharon is so weak.

For fuck’s sake.  
Pkeade Alaskkkka. O misd yuo so fucking mucj. I dhould necer gace brijben uo witg yu come back. I love u.

-0-0-0-

Alaska has worked hard to get over it, but it all becomes undone in one shitty, entirely Sharon Needles-esque text, sent at 3.42am. To some it might seem unintelligible, but Alaska has always known how to decode drunk Sharon.

Please Alaska. I miss you so fucking much. I should never have broken up with you come back. I love you.

Her finger hovers over the send button for a few moments. She has scars on her heart and her body reminding her of this love, and she’s wary of it. When she was getting into drag, people often pointed out the crescent moon shape on her upper arm.

“Sharon.” She’d say, and they’d nod, but they wouldn’t understand. Sharon wasn’t abusive, Sharon was a wreck.

She was probably cursed from all those Ouija boards she was so fascinated with. Without realising it, the thought makes Alaska smile.

For fuck’s sake.

She decides to press send.

-0-0-0-

Sharon’s phone buzzes, but of course she thinks nothing of it until she sees the little red (1) on the messages app, and her heart rate piques at about four thousand beats a minute.

The contact name “Alaska Thundercock”, followed by an obnoxious amount of heart and eggplant emojis and an appropriate Sharon skull emoji, appears in bold.

Sharon, read this when you’re sober. And I mean sober, no drugs or alcohol at all, and not just for a day. Read this again when you’re okay, and decide how you really feel. By the way. The hangover pills are probably in the top shelf of the medicine cupboard where you always forget you leave them.

She’s so mature now, Sharon marvels. What happened to that sweet, ridiculous girl sending Sharon a hilarious, heartfelt message on Drag Race?

Oh yeah. Fucking Sharon Needles, enveloped in drugs and drinks and drag, made her mature too fast. She’s awful.

For fuck’s sake.

She responds.

-0-0-0-

Thank ufck for you alskaaaaa. Craxu demob ggurl make sure satan dont get yuo have a good sleeo and I kove you. sober always bitch. We should oujia ahain some timr.

Alaska laughs out loud.

That’s so Sharon Needles. It’s so fucking Sharon Needles that it makes her belly hurt from laughing.

Thank fuck for you Alaska. Crazy demon girl, make sure Satan doesn’t get you, have a good sleep and I love you. Sober always, bitch. We should Ouija again some time.

Because only Sharon fucking Needles would say “we should Ouija again sometime”. Only Sharon fucking Needles would say that.

-0-0-0-

Sharon is sober again, and that’s a surprise. It’s been a month, and she’s jittery as hell, sweating and anxious and uncomfortable, but she’s pushing through it like a true ghoulfriend. She’s not been doing shows, instead dedicating time to separating Sharon Needles from, well, Sharon. And besides, witches can handle anything. This won’t best her. She won’t let it.

She finally feels proud. Her drag is crazy and creepy and authentic. She looks good. She feels good. She knows the time is right, and perhaps she’s not as shitty as she once was.

Alaska? I’m sober. One month. No fairy dust, no smack, no acid. No beer, vodka, cocktails. It’s just me and my drag now. The real Sharon Needles is back, crazy demon girl. I’ve decided what I want, and I’ve thought long and hard about it. And become long and hard about it too.

So, lasky. We should Ouija again sometime.

-0-0-0-

Sharon Needles is such a bitch.

Alaska grins. She really is. She’s a witch, too.

She types back a quick response, takes a screenshot of the conversation and posts it to her twitter. Within minutes, a headlining article blares in her face.

“BREAKING – DRAG RACE ROYALTY STARS ALASKA THUNDERFUCK AND SHARON NEEDLES TOGETHER AGAIN?”

-0-0-0-

And two days later, she’s in bed. With Sharon fucking Needles.


End file.
